NEW ORLEANS, 10 A.M., OCT. 2D.
Our hero could scarcely realize that he was at last in New Orleans.
That New Orleans, so pregnant with his hopes and attainings. New
Orleans, his thought by day and dream by night. New Orleans, the first
accomplishment of his life!
Yet so it was. He was safely landed in New Orleans, and it was the
morning of the second of October!
"What time is it?" he asked, as he sprang on shore.
"Nine o'clock," replied a gentleman looking at his watch.
Nine o'clock! And at _ten_ o'clock Smythe would be awaiting his
telegram in New York City!
Twenty thousand dollars, fairly won! And then came a dull, dead pain
that nipped his exultations. What if it were twenty times twenty
thousand dollars? The money could not give him happiness. He had
lost what money could not recover. What was the vile stuff but a
tantalization? An allurement that promised everything and was empty of
fulfillments?
Hold on, friend Ben, don't speak disrespectfully of money. Money is the
lever that moves the world, and love the fulcrum it rests upon. Had you
a fortune would not the lady of your affections be within your reach?
Is she not _selling_ herself to Arthur Blackoat, and would she not much
rather effect the sale with you? The sale is to be a sacrifice, Ben, a
sacrifice--the highest bidder takes her.
Then a great flash of hope illuminated his countenance. She had
confessed she loved him. Aye, had given herself to him, and he had
sacrificed her himself on the altar of Mammon for the good of her
mother and that little bed-ridden sister. But circumstances were
altered. He was now possessed of a small fortune. Twenty thousand
dollars awaited his call in New York City, while four hundred, had,
per agreement, been sent to a correspondent at New Orleans and was now
subject to his order. Twenty thousand four hundred dollars! It was
quite a sum of money. Twenty thousand dollars, judiciously invested,
would afford an income of twelve or fifteen hundred dollars per annum.
Enough for two persons to live quite comfortably on. He would give the
whole of it to Bertha's mother and sister. He would present them with
the twenty thousand dollars, and keeping the four hundred for a start
in life, marry the girl he loved and be happy.
Remember, gentle reader, Ben was young and sanguine, and _unmarried_.
His mother-in-law, at the time, was in embryo. We older heads look at
these things differently.
What a wonderful change the face of nature wore after these bright
hopes and satisfactory intentions had possession of him. Everything was
light, airy, joyous, happy. He could fairly have shouted aloud in the
fullness of his heart, and offered up many a mental thanksgiving as he
hurried up Canal Street. Had his feelings not been so surcharged with
resurrected hopes he might have noticed that he was on the handsomest
thoroughfare in the world. A street that has not its equal in any
city on the globe. The beauties of architecture that line it are not
prominent (with the exception of one of the most ornate pieces of
iron architecture in America, that stood at the foot of it and in the
very centre of the street. It is now demolished, but a few years ago
was one of the curiosities of the city.) It is not the buildings that
make Canal Street the thing of beauty it is, but it is the great, wide
picturesque street itself, with its tramways and grass-plots and trees
and _banquettes_ in the very centre of it, and its broad roadways on
each side. A noble artery for the great city.
But Ben cared little about streets or cities just then. His mind
and body were alive with new projects for a gladsome future. He
passed a jeweller's and learned the time. It was exactly twenty-five
minutes past nine. The time was exact. Regulated to a second from the
observatory at Washington daily. In five minutes more he had turned
down St. Charles Street and entered the rotunda of the St. Charles
hotel. He quivered with suppressed excitement as he wrote:
"New Orleans, Oct. 2d, 9.30 A.M., St. Charles Hotel.
"_I am here. Answer immediately._
"Benjamin Cleveland.
"To Algernon Smythe, Esq., Park Row, New York City."
When he had handed this to the operator, and seen him tick it off upon
his wonderful little instrument, he felt quieter, and sat down to await
the reply.
We will not attempt to depict Ben's thoughts as he sat there. Suffice
it for us to know that they were one great swell of triumph, and
the pictures of future happiness that floated before his fancy were
gorgeous with crimson and gold. Just as the hands of the clock
announced ten o'clock, the operator called to him, and with the remark
that the matter had been expeditiously attended to, handed him the
following dispatch:
"Park Row, New York City, }
October 2d, 10.45 A.M. }
"Dear boy, we all sympathize with you. Your dispatch came to hand
fifteen minutes ago. You have lost by thirty minutes. Money has
been paid to Smythe.
"John Hough, stake-holder.
"Augustus Wasson, referee."
Ben read it, and reread it, and read it over and over again. The date
caught his eye, "10.45 A.M." He looked at the clock in the rotunda; it
was but ten o'clock and five minutes then. He called the operator's
attention to it.
"Oh, yes; you see the difference between New York and New Orleans time
is sixty-two minutes. When it is nine-thirty _here_, it is a little
past _ten-thirty there_. A great many people who don't think of this,
are surprised to receive dispatches ahead of time, as they think. And
it's laughable to see their astonishment sometimes." And the clerk
laughed in verification of it.
But Ben heard him not. His mind was in a whirl. His body trembled. His
legs refused their support and he would have fallen to the floor had
not an attendant caught him.
"You 'pears to be sick, sah. Bettah take some fresh air, sah."
"Lost! Lost! Lost!" he cried. "Everything LOST!"